


Finally Friday

by fiercy, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Chris Hemsworth and Henry Cavill [10]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), Superman RPF, Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 16:12:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6527041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiercy/pseuds/fiercy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Chris Hemsworth/Henry Cavill storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG <a href="http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read">Citadel</a>. If you're interested in joining, please contact the mods as listed <a href="http://citadel-info.dreamwidth.org/995.html#cutid1">here</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Finally Friday

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Chris Hemsworth/Henry Cavill storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read). If you're interested in joining, please contact the mods as listed [here](http://citadel-info.dreamwidth.org/995.html#cutid1).

The sense of anticipation had been growing all day long. By the time Henry actually reaches Chris's house, his hands are shaking with it.

Retrieving the key from its place under the window sill, he lets himself into the house. For a long time, he just stands there. The house smells like Chris. It _feels_ like Chris, though Henry knows it's a rental. And it's quiet, waiting for the hurricane to come.

Still trembling slightly, he returns the key and steps back inside, letting the quiet snick of the door behind him center him somewhat. He's alone, for now.

It's the smoky, exotic scent of the raw wood floor just beyond what is obviously Chris's room that draws him. Already in awe of the house, he's stopped in his tracks on that warm wood walkway by the sight of the room-size shower just beyond. He groans in anticipation, dropping his bag--and his clothes--as his cock swells.

Fixing a picture of Chris in his mind, Henry steps in. No more is he prepping for someone he's paying to appreciate him. This is for Chris. Henry is fully aware this is the most important prep of his life.

The water calms him somewhat, the age-old pre-sex rituals soothing, even as they excite. Cock hard now, drops of water still clinging to his skin, he walks to his bag and reaches for his camera, ready to create the surprise he'll have waiting for Chris.

His hands are shaking again as he perches the camera on his bag. It's just right to catch him from the chest down. He kneels before it, on the still-warm tile, taking a deep breath to keep it together.

The long-lasting lube is cool on his fingers and cooler on the tight, warm pucker of his ass. Henry groans as he slips the first finger inside, taking it easily. By the time he has the third tucked into his body, he's turned to show his back--and his ass--to the camera.

It's hard to stop. But no way in hell will he come. Hell no.

He stays naked, washing his hands and setting up the portable DVD on the table just inside the door, the ornate "Play Me" card sitting next to it prominently displayed. And then he finds his way back to Chris's room to wait.

All the while trembling.

///

Chris is almost vibrating with excitement by the time he gets home and lets himself into the house. A soft groan spills from his lips at the sight of the DVD player and the sign beside it and he presses the button, chest tight, breath held, cock already starting to ache. Oh god. Watching Henry, his boy, prep himself in the shower, in this house, _for_ him. Which means he must still be here. And it doesn't take much to guess where.

The sound of the door is loud in the quiet of the house and Henry starts, exaggerated slightly from the sense of anticipation. He groans, his hand going to his cock to give it a squeeze to give himself time. Time to enjoy what's about to happen before he explodes. He wishes he'd thought to ask for a cock ring.

It's with bated breath that Chris steps into his bedroom, that breath sliding from him, his cock throbbing violently, at the sight of Henry, arranged, naked on his bed. Without a word, he tugs his t-shirt over his head and drops it to the floor. His jeans follow, his cock springing free, hard, aching, already wet at its tip.

Henry's off the bed like a shot, throwing himself into Chris's arms the moment he's naked, mouths clashing almost violently. He'd known, of course, how good it would be to see him, but he hadn't _known_. Not until that moment. A soft, desperate sound escapes the back of his throat as the kiss rocks through him like a tidal wave.

"I'm not going to last," Chris warns him, pushing Henry back onto the bed, hips between his thighs, kissing him again and again. Holding back because he knows once he's inside Henry, he won't be able to.

Shaking his head, Henry smiles up at him. "I won't, either," he answers. "I don't care. I just want you inside of me." He returns kiss for kiss, his hands moving over Chris, memorizing him all over again.

Heart beating so hard he'd swear it's going to come out of his chest, Chris reaches between them, eyes locked on Henry's as he lines up, cock nudging against Henry's hole, and pushes slowly in.

The room brightens as Henry's eyes widen, his legs spreading more, his body tilting to take offer itself to Chris. His breath catches, until he finally exhales with a sigh, everything culminating in this moment. It feels different, warm and alive and _different_ and he signals his approval in the long, low moan that comes with the next exhale, his body shuddering hard.

It's incredible - hot and tight and so very soft. Chris had forgotten how much latex changes things. Had never realized how much _emotion_ changes things. Intensifying everything. Stealing his breath away. Putting him so close to the edge in an instant, it's all he can do not to come, right there, right then, as he slides deeper into Henry's - into his lover's - body.

Perhaps it's the sensation, perhaps it's the slight burn of pain, but most likely the wetness that gathers against Henry's lashes is the result of the intense rush of intimacy he feels in this moment. He's thrown away all his care and worry about being found out, about being outed, since he'd met Chris and it's all coming together in the here and now. He whimpers softly, blinking away the tears but for one that quickly slips down over his temple. "Yours," he whispers, his hands framing Chris's face as he lifts his legs to wrap around the lean, strong hips moving deeper.

Chris nods. "Mine," he whispers back, moving deeper still, until he's fully buried in Henry, taking that one instant to simply savour the feel of him, how very deep he is. Possession. Complete and utter possession. He pulls back and shoves in again, taking everything with one sharp thrust. And then another.

It's different. It's _so_ different and Henry is lost in it in that instant that Chris _takes_. He cries out, his fingers pressing into Chris's back to hang on, determined to feel every inch of him inside. His hips jerk forward to take that second thrust more quickly, and he cries out again as the head of Chris's-- _Christ so big_ \--cock hits hard against his sweet spot.

Those cries are Chris's undoing. He thrusts again, even rougher this time, his cock throbbing violently when Henry reacts, the sounds spilling from his lips, and then slams in three more times before coming with a shout that fills the room, his cock pulsing hotly, thickly, inside Henry, flooding his hole. _Mine._

It hurts a bit. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Henry acknowledges that. He doesn't care, except in the way that a true masochist does. He's high on Chris, on the join of their bodies, and the pleasure swelling in him, overflowing . . . . He shouts out his release to the four walls and the ocean beyond, his body tightening impossibly around Chris's cock.

 _Yes._ Chris growls as Henry's come spatters their stomachs, hot and slick between them, still moving into his lover until he has no choice but to stop, every last aftershock having shivered through his frame.

Panting, his body heaving with his heavy heart beat, Henry hangs on, his hands moving over Chris, still feeling like he can't get enough yet too exhausted to even ask for more. He groans softly, leaning up to nuzzle under his lover's chin, nipping gently, the sweat from Chris's jaw sharp on his tongue.

Chris covers Henry's mouth with his, kissing him fiercely, with every ounce of passion he feels. "That was incredible," he whispers, the weight of what Henry's given him, the trust he's shown, suddenly hitting him hard. "Thank you."

Henry shakes his head, eyes locked with Chris's. "Thank you. Thank you for understanding why I waited. And for insisting we wait a little longer. It was incredible." The kiss leaves him almost as shaken as the sex, the emotion behind it bringing suspicious moisture to Henry's eyes.

He chuffs out a laugh. "You've got me tearing up like a wee girl."

Chris grins and kisses Henry again, grateful he doesn't have to move. "There's nothing wee about you."

Laughing outright this time, Henry nods in agreement. "You've got me there."

His legs had slipped down since they'd ended their rush toward release. Henry fixes that, now, once more wrapping them around Chris. "Don't go yet," he murmurs, lifting up to initiate the kiss this time.

"I could stay here all night," Chris says with a smile. "As long as I'm not crushing you."

"I can breathe. That covers the only thing that could possibly be more important than you staying right where you are," Henry says, giving him an answering smile.

Chris ducks his head a little. "This was all I thought about - all week," he confesses. "Making love to you," his voice a little softer. "I knew I wouldn't last long. We'll have to do it again so you won't think I always go off that fast."

"Well I should bloody well hope we're going to do it again!" Henry blurts out, grinning. "Did you miss the part where I'm addicted to you? I just graduated to crack from cocaine. You can't take it away now!"

Chris laughs, kissing Henry again, this time so softly. "How's your recovery time?" he whispers, rocking his hips a little, his cock already starting to harden again.

Henry's eyes widen and with the next rock he's right there with him, moving against him, his cock swelling slowly but very surely. "Apparently it's pretty good," he whispers back, a little amazed.

Chris reaches for Henry's hands and pushes them above his head, pinning them to the bed as he pushes in slowly, the barest of movements. Just enough to let him harden, lengthen, slide into Henry's delicious wet heat again and again.

In a flash another element is added, the hint of control, of restraint causing Henry's cock to jump between them. He groans softly, testing Chris's hold with a gentle tug of his hands . . . just to see.

"Do you really think I'm going to let you go?" Chris whispers. They're both bulked up and Chris has no doubt that Henry could take almost anyone else but Chris still has a number of inches and pounds on his lover - his boy - and his grip only tightens.

The heat that hits Henry like Thor's fucking hammer must show in his face. He can feel the flush crawling over him from belly to cheeks and beyond, his body squirming beneath Chris as instinct has him reacting to the tighter restraint with just a little bit of fight. It's no use. He's going nowhere, and the vulnerability that kicks up is humbling. He groans again, arching against Chris, his cock spitting a pre-cursor for what's to come between them.

"Like that, do you? That you can't get free. Not even if you tried as hard as you could," Chris continues, pushing up to his knees, his cock pulled out to the very tip and then plunged back in. Hard and then harder still.

It seems like a rhetorical question, so Henry doesn't bother answering. At least not out loud. Instead his body answers for him, rising to the challenge, hips jerking with the second thrust to take him deeper, faster. He cries out when it scores him a direct hit to that sweet, hot spot of nerves and he follows the cry with a growl. He wants _more_.

"Come on," Chris urges. "Tell me what you want. Beg for it," he orders, driving into Henry, his rhythm this time hard and fast but designed to last. He could do this all night.

"Fuck me, p . . . please," Henry answers after a moment of getting his head straight. "Harder . . . fuck, please fuck me harder," he finally manages, the words coming with effort.

Bracing himself on Henry's wrists, Chris slams in harder and deeper, driving into Henry's open hole again and again, pleasure flushing through his body, thrumming through his veins. 

Nothing has ever felt like this before. It's a familiar thought by now, but Henry can't get past it. Mixed with the pleasure and the beginnings of raw pain is the mix of awe, excitement and sense of rightness. It's all overwhelming, and the cries morph into whimpers as Henry once more tips down into subspace. His wrists ache, his hole is stretched and starting to burn . . . it's all because of the man working him so hard, hovering above him. He opens his eyes, locking them with Chris's, whimpers becoming soft, constant, primitive keens.

"You're going to come for me again, aren't you?" Chris fucks Henry harder until his whole body aches with the strength needed to keep up the pace. "Just like this. Without even being touched."

At first Henry isn't sure he can; the pain is intensifying. But then the look in Chris's eyes, the subtle command in his voice takes hold and the next time his cock shoves in, hitting him just right Henry does come. He comes with a bang, though there's not much to shoot, and this time it's a silent gasp that accompanies it.

"That's it. Good boy," Chris breathes, managing to hold out for another dozen thrusts before he comes as well, spilling deep into Henry's battered hole.

He's done. For now, Henry's absolutely done, and he collapses onto the bed with a huff of air and an exhaled moan. He hurts. He feels amazing. His heart is thumping as if he's been running sprints . . . and he wouldn't change a moment of it for anything. He tries to wrap his arms around Chris, to just hang on, but he's stopped by the punishing grip still binding his wrists. It's then he gets the smile on his face that even _feels_ dopey.

Chris smiles down at Henry, easing but not releasing his grip on his lover's wrists. Slowly draping himself over him. "You're everything I've ever wanted," he whispers. "Everything I've been waiting for all my life." It's a huge risk, giving words to everything he's feeling, exposing that vulnerability, but Henry's worth it. Worth taking that risk.

Henry's smile softens, the words ringing through him with almost as much power as the sex had. "I always hoped, but I admit I never thought I'd find someone like you. Someone safe. Someone to be with." His words are a little slurred, and might not be in the right order, he's still flying so high, but he means every one. "I've been waiting for you, too."

"And now we've got all weekend," Chris says, teasing a little, unwilling to let things become too serious. Not when they're here together, in each other's arms. He eases out and rolls to the side, pulling Henry close, the sheets drawn up around them.

They fit. Even in this, in curling up afterward, they fit. "All weekend," Henry murmurs. "I like the sound of that."


End file.
